Waiting Still
by Ms Western Ink
Summary: She was tired of being told who she could & couldn’t associate with and she was tired of his hot and cold moods. AxM SL Challenge


Waiting Still

* * *

Her appearance was sudden and unexpected to those sitting in the common room. Okina was at the table and with him was Aoshi, between them was a tea set and plate of pastries. She took a deep breath and debated whether or not she should go around the back before they noticed her.

"Ah, there you are, Misao. Aoshi has just issued an interesting proposal, come, come, I'd like you to hear it."

She frowned, puzzled. Well that sounded entirely too diplomatic. Okina was obviously up to something. Wanting to do nothing more than flee, she shifted her arms about her middle section and sort of waddled toward the doorway.

Instantly, two sets of eyes were upon her… and then they were focused downward upon the awkwardly lumpy section of her belly.

"Ah… Misao…" Okina started his expression somewhere between mystified and grim. His eyes darted up to her face. "Everything well?"

She nodded. "Just took a walk. It's really lovely outside," she supplied, smiling sweetly. "You should go for a walk. In fact, why don't you go now? I heard that fresh air was highly-"

"Are you hiding something beneath your shirt?" Aoshi interrupted, ever direct. He stared at her critically, gaze even, mouth set in a harsh, straight line.

She blinked and her eyes flickered toward Aoshi.

"Of course not, Aoshi-sama. Would I do that? I've just … um… _gained_ … a little weight. How embarrassing of you to mention it!"

The two men blinked at her almost in unison and she knew it was time to retreat before she lost some of her precious cargo. She didn't want them getting any designs on her apples, or worse yet, making her _return_ said apples.

They were hers!

Her bounty!

Her victory prize!

They were, technically, hot property.

"I've just been so hungry lately… so… yeah. Actually, I'm hungry now so I better go see if Omasu will feed me."

She turned and started toward the kitchen. She just barely heard Aoshi speak behind her.

"If you will excuse me, Okina."

The old man gave no reply. That's when she felt it. A slip against the fabric and then an accompanying heavy thump on the floor. She stopped.

Maybe they hadn't noticed.

She started again, quicker this time, only there were two more slips and two more thumps. She could hear the apples rolling. She'd probably bruised their precious skins!

"MISAO!"

She knew that chastising roar anywhere. She was about to get a first-class tongue lashing from Okina.

No!

She'd come so close, if only they hadn't been sitting between her and the staircase.

She turned around only to find herself face to… _chest_ with Aoshi. She glanced up as he started to kneel down. His eyes were trained on her as he slid downward onto one knee and plucked up an apple into one big hand without ever looking away from her. She felt her insides heat and her face did too.

Argh! Now she was blushing!

He held up the apple and spoke. "So you are carrying apples beneath your shirt?"

"No, Aoshi-sama! Would I do that?" she answered innocently.

He just stared at her, not shifting from his kneeled position still holding the apple up in his palm.

"Besides, who says they're apples at all? Just _that one_ is an apple."

"And the other two?"

She shrugged and then hurriedly re-grasped her midsection as she shifted her load beneath the fabric. "Do you have proof those are apples! They are circles of mystery! Maybe I have an orange in here!"

"Okina," Aoshi curtly spoke. "Leave us."

The old man hesitated briefly and then nodded sedately moving toward the door. Once there he paused and glanced back, his expression completely lecherous.

"Don't you two kids have too much fun back here. We have customers out front!" he grinned and slipped away.

Misao blushed to the roots of her hair and Aoshi said nothing at all. Instead, he dropped the apple he was holding and Misao jumped watching it impact the floor.

"My apple!" she all but shrieked in alarm. "Bruised! Injured! Precious, precious- EEEK!" she screeched as she felt those big, warm hands come to rest against the outside of her thighs just below her hips. They were so big and hot and… he shifted them up, running his calloused fingers against the cloth of her hips, over the bones, up, back to the tie of her uniform.

With a singular pull of his hand, the wide sash around her waist loosed and he uncoiled it letting it drop around her ankles.

"Aoshi-sama!"

His eyes focused downward upon her midsection. He laid his hands flat and she squirmed trying to hold her apples in, but the garment had lost its base support and her apples swooshed out from beneath the fabric the moment the sash dropped.

All except those cradled in her arms in the front collided with the floor and rolled.

"My apples!" she exclaimed.

"Where did you get those?" he asked.

"Places," she responded, trying to retain the uneven hold on her remaining fruit treasure.

He stood and the movement slow and languorous. "Put the rest of your apples on the table."

She moved to protest but he stopped her by placing one broad hand on her shoulder.

"On the table."

She moved forward and his hand fell away. Misao kept her back to him as she slid a hand into her garment and withdrew the apples one by one and placed them on the tabletop.

"_All_ of them."

His voice was sudden and close and she jumped, startled. Her heart began to pound when she felt one hand against her hip and another at high at her collarbone. His rough tipped fingers slipped beneath the flap of her uniform. She stood rigid, still and uncertain as he brushed his fingers against her in soft, wispy touches before he slid his fingers in past the first knuckle, all the way up to his wrist and then down. She gasped as one finger errantly brushed against her breast.

She felt his hand curl and tighten and she knew her last apple, the one she'd been futilely trying to conceal would not leave the room with her. He drew his hand back drawing the apple straight up through the valley between her breasts, pressing it against her skin there, the back of his fingers sliding against her. He moved away, placing it on the table. A perfect circle composed of six apples was left when she stepped back, righting her garment as much as she could with her sash still on the floor.

Crossing her arms tightly, she waited. Her eyes flickered up toward his and then down toward the floor as she felt uneasy with him staring at her. There was a warm flush to her cheeks, her heart was still pounding, and she was certain that she was blushing.

"You were warned before about stealing with that boy. You will serve in the Aoiya kitchen for the remainder of the day. Begin now with the dishes."

She clenched her jaw, stepped away, swooped down to scoop up her sash, and stomped away angrily. Her apples… her day… RUINED!

Fuming still, she made her way to the kitchen to carry out her punishment. She was tired of being told what to do. She was tired of being told who she could & couldn't associate with and she was tired of Aoshi-sama's hot and cold moods.

* * *

Misao's progression towards womanhood was a long journey, one that had many detours, both scenic and treacherous. She was content to follow that winding road wherever it led her and he was satisfied to watch her travel it.

The past two years since his return to the Aoiya had been both refreshing and new. He had been reunited with those from his past; he's been reunited with Misao. She had grown so much and so little. Her womanly body would not be changing except to age and he found her frame, slight as she was, aroused him in ways he hadn't felt so strongly since the early days of his youth.

Misao always had a good grasp of the neighborhood and she had been acquainted with a boy nearby named Hiro long before he had returned to the Aoiya. He'd heard the boy mentioned now and again but never so much as recently.

She'd taken to _playing_ with him. The boy was about fourteen by his estimation and completely harmless when it came to Misao and Misao's body. He may be old enough to perform, of that Aoshi couldn't be certain, but he knew that Misao would not be taking him on.

Hiro was far too small, too scrawny, and too childlike to appeal to Misao's deeper wants. She desired him, Aoshi, a man of age and experience and he found it a source of great pride that she wanted him.

She may not know exactly or understand… or maybe she did… but _he_ knew, _he_ saw it, and _he_ understood it. As long as the boy remained a non-threat to Misao's chastity, Aoshi would leave him alone.

He turned back and plucked an apple up from the table and took to the stairs. The living quarters were quiet with everyone having gone down to work. He was blissfully alone. He slid open the door to his room and stepped in, closing it behind him. He didn't want any interruptions.

He crossed the room and pulled open the window. A fresh breeze roared in and he inhaled deeply, hoping for her scent on the wind.

Down below upon the ground Misao was on her knees leaning over a large bucket of water, up to her elbow in soap suds. She scrubbed hard, her movements jerky, symptomatic of anger.

He brought the apple up and sniffed it. The apple he'd plucked from against her body. He gently rubbed his nose against the waxy skin and then flicked his tongue out against it, tasting it.

Soon.

He licked it again, gathering every part of Misao that may have rubbed off on the fruit into his mouth. Biting down sharply, his teeth scored the fruit, puncturing it deeply. A chunk fell into his waiting mouth and he sucked at it, flicking his tongue against it savoring the sweet juice.

_Soon_.

He devoured the apple and took a glance down at the core in his hand. Little seeds peeked out from the flesh; the apple stem curved just slightly, and a tiny bit of red skin remained at the top. His fingers were sticky and the flesh was browning in the air. He tossed it with a flick of his wrist out the window onto the ground where Misao was working.

Her head popped up. He watched her reach for the apple core, her fingers wet and wrinkled. She whipped around and looked up, her eyes frantically searching the windows and Aoshi stepped back.

She would see nothing. She could guess and she could speculate, but he was not ready yet.

She would wait still.

* * *

AN: Inspired in part by or written similarly to Hikaru's "Just Friends". Actually, I changed this one a great deal from the one I asked her to approve. 


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